


I am No Mermaid

by rattatatosk



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Foggy makes him take a day off anyway, Gen, Matt Murdock is allergic to fun, Selkies, hijinks ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rattatatosk/pseuds/rattatatosk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Foggy go fishing. Matt may have forgotten to tell Foggy he never learned how to swim. Foggy may have been looking for an opportunity to tell Matt that he's actually a selkie. </p><p>Fortunately, fate has a solution in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. down to the edge of the water

**Author's Note:**

> For the following prompt on the kinkmeme: 
> 
> _“Evidence for Foggy being a selkie:_
> 
> _1\. Looks like an adorable seal  
>  2\. Talks a lot  
> 3\. Gets excited about fish markets_
> 
> _I'd love to see Matt finding out."_

“Since when do you like fishing?” Matt asked, as he carefully threaded his line through the lure, securing it with a knot.

“It's a Nelson family tradition!” Foggy said, with a grandiose arm gesture that sent the air rippling across Matt's face. “We always go out on the lake to fish on Memorial Day! Then everybody comes back to the beach and we grill up our catch for dinner. It's perfect!”

Matt smiled. “And you dragged me along to this because--?”

“Because it's good for you to get out of the city once in awhile, man. Breathe some fresh air, y'know? _Relax_.”

Matt sighed, but Foggy cut off his protest before he could even start. “I know, I know, Matt Murdock is allergic to relaxation. Chill out, dude, it's just one day. I _promise_ you won't fail if you take _one day_ off.”

“I still can't believe you wouldn't even let me bring the reading,” Matt groaned.

“No studying!” Foggy said firmly. “Too much studying is gonna rot your brain.”

“I'm pretty sure it's going to do the opposite, actually,” Matt said, but it was a half-hearted protest at best.

“Whatever, dude. Now let me see your line, make sure the lure won't get pulled off by the first fish, and then we can get started.” Foggy said, pulling Matt's fishing rod toward him as he checked it over.

To tell the truth, Matt thought, it _was_ relaxing out here. It had been a bit disorienting at first, navigating with a completely different set of sounds than the city clamor that he was used to. But Foggy was as helpful as ever in guiding him around until he got a sense of things, and after a little while he'd realized that, although he'd always thought of nature as quiet, it was almost as noisy as the city in its own way. There was the sound of the lake lapping the shore, wood planks creaking in the old boats, wet rope rasping as it pulled against the docks, a dozen different birdcalls making a chorus in the rustling leaves of the woods, and of course an endless drone of insects buzzing in the background.

No screams, though, no sirens. No endless voices crying out for help. That was a nice change. And since Foggy hadn't let him bring any homework, he really did have nothing to do but relax and enjoy his weekend of leisure.

“Matt, this lure is perfect and I want you to know that I am disgusted with how perfect it is,” Foggy announced, and Matt snapped his attention back to the present. Foggy pushed the rod back into Matt's hands with a huff. “Seriously. Do you know how many years of lectures I got from my dad and uncles about how it had to be done _just right_? And you mastered it in, like, ten minutes. It's just not fair.”

“What can I say?” Matt shrugged. “I've got a lot of practice using my hands.”

“Ugh, _whatever.”_ Foggy said, lightly punching Matt's shoulder. “You may have the lure on, but we'll see if you can actually catch anything with it.” He paused. “Hmm, maybe we should have a wager. First one to catch a fish gets five bucks?”

“We didn't bring any money, Foggy.”

“Damn it, you're right. That was stupid of us. How about a beer then. Whoever catches the first fish owes the other one a beer. Deal?”

“Deal.” Matt grinned, holding out a fist, which Foggy bumped back.

They spent the next hour amicably chatting as they fished. Matt asked about some of Foggy's relatives that he'd met earlier, and Foggy had plenty of gossip and funny stories about all of them. Matt smiled and contributed a few stories of his own, although privately, he felt more than a little self-conscious whenever he talked about his past. Foggy's life was so _normal._ It seemed... unfair, to burden him with stories of Matt's decidedly _not-_ normal childhood. He wasn't-- he wasn't _jealous_ of Foggy, exactly, but it did make him wonder. What would his life have been like, if he'd had both parents, or even just his dad, for longer? What was it like growing up with siblings, instead of a bunch of other messed-up kids that kept disappearing as they got fostered out or adopted? Matt didn't even really have a frame of reference to imagine that kind of normal. What was it like, growing up in a world that was so-- _stable?_

Eventually their conversation drifted off, and they relaxed into companionable silence. Matt heard Foggy's breath catch a few times, the way it always did when he wanted to say something but wasn't quite sure how to start. Matt stayed quiet, and didn't push. If Foggy wanted to say something, Matt would let him say it in his own time.

Meanwhile...it was nice, just resting and waiting for the fish to bite. The sun was warm, but there was enough breeze to keep them cool, and there was something about the rhythmic rocking and creaks of their boat combined with the lapping waves that was inherently soothing. Matt found himself relaxing more and more, not even paying all that much attention to the fishing rod. Matt had lucked out in catching the first fish, to Foggy's dismay, but Foggy had caught quite a few more after that, and eventually they'd stopped counting.

It was actually _so_ soothing that Matt found himself starting to drift off, when a sudden shift in the air brought Matt fully awake. The air pressure had changed, and the air was suddenly heavy with the smell of impending rain.

“Foggy? Shouldn't we be heading in soon? I think it's going to rain.”

“What? No way. The forecast said sun all day. Besides, there's not a cloud in the sky."

“You don't feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The air. It feels... heavy. Kind of staticky? The way it feels right before a thunderstorm. You've never felt that?”

“No, I definitely know what you're talking about, but there's no way--” he stopped suddenly, and Matt could sense his head jerking up to stare at the sky as that heavy-wet-staticky feeling in the air abruptly doubled.

“What? What is it?”

“No _way_ ,” Foggy breathed. “What the _hell.”_

“Foggy, _what.”_

“I wish you could see this, dude. The sky is _insane_. Like, huge black thunderclouds, rolling in straight outta fucking _nowhere_.” Then he shook his head, clearly forcing himself to focus. “It also means we are _screwed_ if we don't get to shore, like, immediately.” He pulled the fishing rod from Matt's hand, and Matt could hear him fumbling with the motor. It started with a roar, and Matt winced, both at the noise and the sudden movement as the boat jerked forward. “Sorry!” Foggy called. “Just hang on, okay? This might get kinda rough.”

“Okay?” Matt said, but his reply was drowned out by a sizzle of electricity in the air and then a few seconds later, a huge, rolling crack of thunder that Matt could feel in his teeth.

“ _FUCK!”_ Foggy shouted, and then the rain started.

It was freezing, and so heavy it was practically solid, and they were both soaked in seconds. Matt couldn't see the lightning, but he could taste the electricity in the air, and thunder continued to rumble overhead. The boat began to rock and jolt as the waves went from 'choppy' to 'menacing' in minutes. Foggy cursed at the engine, but there was nothing he could do to make it go any faster. Matt shivered and clung to the side of the boat as they pressed on.

The rocking of the boat grew worse and worse, and the waves started to crash over the side. Matt felt the water creeping up over the tops of his shoes, and the roar of thunder and rain and waves drowned out whatever Foggy was shouting at him. He felt Foggy grab for his arm, trying to keep him steady, and then another wave crashed up and over them, toppling the boat and sending both of them over the side.


	2. keep my head above the waves

The water was shockingly cold, and it squeezed the last gasp of air out of him as he went under. His radar sense had all but vanished as soon as the waves closed over his head, and the sounds underwater were too muffled and vague to be any help in outlining his surroundings. All he could sense was _cold_ and _wet_ as he flailed around, trying to figure out which way was up.

He'd never learned how to swim. There'd never been any need; they hadn't been able to afford going to any swimming pools when he was a kid, and once he was at St. Agnes, the nuns certainly hadn't had the time or money to take the kids to the beach. They probably wouldn't have let him try swimming anyway. They always did have a tendency to hover over him, no matter how much he told them he was _fine_ on his own.

So he couldn't swim.

He probably should have told Foggy this before they'd gotten on the boat. He _had_ asked about life jackets, but Foggy had just complained that they'd be too hot. _Besides_ , he said, _I've been swimming my whole life. If you fall in, I'll be right there to perform a daring rescue!_

He sure could use that daring rescue now.

Twisting around, he tried desperately to extend his senses; hoping to catch a sense of _anything_ that might help guide him back to the surface. But despite the storm raging up above, the water was mostly still around him. He could sense a few fish; tiny flickers of motion in an endless expanse of blank space. It felt like being smothered in thick fabric.

Surely Foggy couldn't be far off. Everything was muffled and wobbly in the water, but _surely_ he'd sense something as big as another person swimming nearby.

Right?  
  
But the water seemed to be getting even colder now, and it was getting hard to think. His lungs burned for air. He kicked out with his feet, pushing himself forward in a direction that he desperately hoped was _up_.

_Where was Foggy?_

Then-- suddenly, there was a rippling motion in the water behind him, a smooth shape barrelling straight towards him like a torpedo. He turned to meet it, hope blooming in the midst of his heavy, sluggish thoughts. _Foggy. Foggy is here. He can help_.

He reached out, searching for his friend's hand, just as the shape brushed past against him. _Foggy!_

He managed to get a handful of something completely unexpected-- something smooth and soft and rubbery. He jerked his hand away in shock, just as the shape in the water pushed against him again. It had twisted around behind him, hitting him right in the small of his back. He flinched and turned, flailing his arms. What- what was in the water with him? It wasn't human. Where was Foggy?

His thoughts were starting to stutter, filling up with static, and he felt his grasp on consciousness slipping. Besides him the shape, whatever it was, hit him again, pushing hard against his back and propelling him up a few feet. Dimly, he kicked again-- whether to try to swim or to fend off this creature, he didn't know. The shape seemed to approve of this plan, as it pushed him again, and then again, and finally, _finally_ he reached the surface and gasped in the sweet, sweet relief of air.

The relief was momentary, however, as the sea above the surface was a roiling, chaotic mess that was impossible to make sense of. Rain pounded the surface of the water, which churned with massive waves that broke over his head, leaving him choking and spitting out water as he tried to get his breath back. Thunder rumbled overhead, and he had no idea which direction the shore might be, even if he could swim to it.

He kicked and kicked, trying to keep his head above the waves. He tried to move his arms around, too, but it didn't seem to be doing much. He could feel a current twisting against his legs as _whatever_ was down there swam around him. It kept brushing against his sides and nosing at his hands. Startled, he wrenchedaway from it, and found his head sinking back under the waves.

The creature-- was it a seal? – headbutted his back again, pushing him up long enough to get a few more breaths of air, and then it moved closer, nosing along his arm with its snout. He tried to push it away, smacking the tender nose hard. It huffed, air bubbles curling around his fingers in what almost seemed like annoyance.

Then it bit him.

Matt yelped and tried to yank his arm out of its mouth, but the creature had its teeth firmly around his wrist. It didn't seem intent on attacking him, though. After his initial panic, he realized its teeth were firmly holding him, but not cutting. It gave a gentle tug on his arm, and then rolled under him again, almost like it was inviting him to grab ahold of it.

He wasn't – he wasn't sure what to do. Was this real? Was he being rescued by a seal? In the middle of a lake? In a freak storm that had come out of nowhere? Maybe he'd already drowned and he was just hallucinating all of this.

His head broke the surface of the water again, and he gasped as the thrashing waves toppled over his head. Water flowed into his nose, his mouth, and he sputtered, choking and coughing. The seal tugged at his arm insistently. He tried to paddle with his other arm, but didn't make much headway.

All of a sudden, it was too much. He'd been too focused on getting air to really panic before, but now the whole of the situation hit him. He was lost in a storm, he couldn't swim, and everything around him was a hopeless confusion of water and noise and cold. He couldn't swim. He could barely breathe. He had no idea where he was or where safety lay. He- he- he was going to _die_ out here, and- and he- he'd never see Foggy again-

His breath was coming short and fast, and it was getting harder and harder to tell the water apart from air. He knew the air was there, he could feel it, his head was above the waves, but all he could sense was water and wind- and- and he couldn't _get_ to it, couldn't _breathe-_

The seal-- or whatever it was-- jerked in alarm, and let go of his wrist. He barely noticed. He was pretty sure he was going to pass out, and then everything was going to be over.

Next to him, there was a weird, shuddering sensation; an almost-electric tingle that rippled through the water, and then suddenly _Foggy_ was right next to him, one hand gripping Matt's shoulder and the other treading water.

“Dude! Matt! Calm down!” Foggy shouted in his ear. “It's okay! I'm here! Just focus on me and _breathe!”_

“F-Foggy?” Matt sputtered, utterly bewildered. “Where did you-?”

“I've been here the whole time,” Foggy said, and Matt could hear the exasperation in his voice. “I'm trying to save your life here, dude, so calm down and stop flailing so much, okay? We're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get us out of this.”

Matt shook his head. None of this was making any sense. Was he still hallucinating? “You were-- but-- but- it was a _seal!”_  
  
“I know! That was me!”

“You're not a seal!”

“There's no time to explain! This storm is a real monster and we need to get out of here,” Foggy said. “Listen. I'm gonna change back, and you just hold onto me this time, okay?”

Matt's mouth opened and closed a few times before he gave up. The situation was too much for him to process. But he trusted Foggy. “Okay,” he said.

That weird electric shudder fizzled through the water around him, and then there was once again a seal snout nosing at his chest. Matt wrapped his arms around it, and they swam.

 


	3. i'll always live for this feeling

Matt dragged himself up onto the shore of the lake, still coughing and sputtering. He was cold and wet and utterly, utterly confused, but he was desperately glad to be back on solid ground once again. The heavy, wet sand of the shore grated like tiny knives against his fingers, but in that moment, he'd never felt anything better.

The storm seemed to have blown itself out, at least. The air was still heavy with moisture as a light drizzle fell, but the wind had died down, and the rumble of thunder was already fading in the distance. He could hear the seal-- was it really Foggy?-- hauling itself up onto the shore besides him, in an awkward, galumphing waddle. He reached out for it, wanting to feel the wet pelt, the flippers. To maybe convince himself that the whole thing had really happened. But before he could, there was that odd tingling sensation in the air, and then Foggy was clasping Matt's hand with his own.

“Foggy?” Matt said, quietly.

“Matt-” Foggy started, but he was cut off by a shout from down the beach, followed by heavy, muffled footsteps as someone charged down the sand towards them.

“ _FRANKLIN PHILLIP NELSON!”_ a woman's voice shrieked. After a moment, Matt recognized it as Mrs. Nelson. Mostly because he could all but hear Foggy's wince.

“ _Mo-oom_ -” Whatever Foggy was going to say was lost as Mrs. Nelson swept him up in her arms in a fierce bear hug. When she released him a moment later, Foggy was gasping for breath. “Mom! I'm fine! We're fine! See, look at us, here, being fine!”

“You _scared me_ half to _death!”_ Mrs. Nelson hissed, hushing him. “And you are _not_ fine, look at you. Look at what you've done to poor Matthew, he looks like a drowned rat!” 

“I- I'm okay, actually,” Matt said. “Pretty okay. I think. Probably?” Sure, he was still shaking from cold and terror, and he was maybe not breathing as easily as he could be. Whatever. He was fine. He was always fine.

“Oh, you poor dear, you don't need to put on a brave face for me,” Mrs. Nelson cooed, and then her hands were on Matt's shoulders, guiding him up. “I can't even imagine, getting caught out in that storm--” She let him grab onto her arm, and then started leading him down the beach, with Foggy trailing after. “I am going to have _words_ with Certain People, you mark me. These mutants think they can just go about doing what they please, mucking about with the weather like it's not going to have any _consequences_. Tch. Young people these days have no sense of _responsibility_ , no...”

“I... What?” Matt said. She didn't seem to be talking to _him_ , exactly.

“Oh, not you, Matthew, dear. Don't you mind me. I'm just thinking aloud.” 

“Yeah, don't worry about it, Matty, “Foggy said, faux-whispering. “Once she gets on a roll, there's no stopping her.”

“Don't think I'm done with _you_ yet, Franklin,” Mrs. Nelson continued. “I can't believe you! We had everything planned and ready for tonight, and then you go ahead and completely ruin the surprise!”

“Mom, it's not like I had a choice! You saw that storm. I couldn't find him. I had to Shift.”

“Hmph,” she said. “That's as may be. But we're still gonna have a talk about this later. Right now you both need to dry off and warm up. Auntie Beryl's got hot towels and spare clothes for you waiting up at the house, and I think Joe's already started the hot chocolate.” 

“Oh my _god,_ Mom. Hot chocolate? In May?” Foggy complained. “We're twenty-five, not ten.” 

“A spot of hot chocolate after a shock never hurt anyone,” Mrs. Nelson tutted, “and _you_ might be fine, but Matthew is another story. We can't have him catching pneumonia on his first Memorial Day out with us.”

“I am fine, Mrs. Nelson, really,” Matt protested. “You don't have to fuss.”

She waved the hand not holding his arm broadly in dismissal and tutted. “Nonsense. It's no trouble at all. Now, if you'll just step this way, we're almost to the house.”

Matt had toweled off, changed into the spare clothes the Nelsons offered (some of Foggy's old things, soft and worn) and was carefully sipping at the steaming mug of hot chocolate before the events of the afternoon caught back up to him. He'd been rescued from the storm by a seal. Who was Foggy. Who was a seal. _What_.

He turned his head towards Foggy, who was sitting on his left and fidgeting nervously with a tassel on one of the couch cushions.

“So,” Matt said. “You're- you're all seals. Seal-people. Sealple?”

There was a long pause.

“A selkie,” Foggy said, quietly. “That's- that's what we're called. Selkies.”

“Right,” Matt said faintly. There was another long pause. “So- uh. How- how does that work, exactly?”

“Ah, well...” Foggy said, and Matt could hear him shrug. “Magic, basically?”

“Seriously? That's what you're going with?”

“I know it sounds stupid, but it's true, man. We're shapeshifters. There's a whole bunch of Irish folktales devoted to us. You-- you never heard any of those?”

Matt shook his head. “My dad-- he wanted me to study hard and get good grades. He wasn't all that big on fairy tales, you know?”

Foggy sighed. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Look, Matt. I'm sorry. I- I know I should have told you. I've been meaning to, you know. I just- I couldn't figure out _how._ I mean, it all sounds so crazy--”

“Foggy.” Matt cut him off with a wave of his hand. “That's not- it's okay. That you didn't tell me, I mean. We're friends, but- you can still keep some secrets. Everybody keeps secrets. It's fine.”

“No, it's not okay! We're best friends, man. Maverick and Goose, right? No secrets between us. You deserved to know. I just-- I didn't know how to tell you without, like, _showing_ you, but I've gotta be in the water to Shift, and it's not like I was just gonna jump into the fountain on campus.”

“That's why you asked me out here,” Matt said.

“Yeah, kinda,” Foggy said. “And also-- well, honestly, the whole thing is a pretty big secret. Humans finding out about us-- it usually doesn't go well. Those folktales I was talking about, they're pretty much all tragedies. We're not supposed to tell anyone that's not family.”

“Oh,” Matt said quietly. “I'm sorry, Foggy, I didn't mean--”

“No, shut up, let me finish, okay? Because the thing is-- you _are_ family, Matty. I mean, I know you know that Mom loves you, given that she smothers you with presents and food every time you visit, but I-- we-- everybody likes you, Matt. And they're pretty set on adopting you into the clan. So, yeah, I mean, we wanted you to enjoy the weekend-- the fishing and the cookout are great, and you _totally_ also need to get out of the dorm and relax sometimes. But the party was also kind of a set-up for telling you. About us. As a way of making things official.”

“That-- that's what your mom meant,” he said, “about ruining the surprise.”

“Yeah.”

Matt blinked, and realized his eyes were watering. He sniffed, trying to blink the tears away. “I-- thank you, Foggy.” It was all he could manage to say. _No secrets between us. Maverick and Goose._ He swallowed, trying to stifle the guilt that was gnawing at his gut. He couldn't.

 _You deserve to know._ And so did Foggy.

He sighed, and slowly took off his glasses. He wiped his eyes, carefully, and then took a deep breath. “While- while we're talking about secrets, I-- I have something to tell you too,” he said carefully. “It's- it's about my accident, when I was a kid...”

 

 

 

 


End file.
